


I Will Possess Your Heart

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Blood and Violence, Bondage, Come Marking, Creature Fic, Creature Tom, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Horror, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Marking, Murder, Mythical Beings & Creatures, No Hogwarts, Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, heavy dub-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-11-14 13:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: The village of Hogsmeade is bordered by a forest haunted by dangerous creatures, and most who enter the forest are never seen again. Harry enters the forest on a dare and attracts the attention of a murderous creature by the name of Tom who lets Harry live. But Tom's obsession with Harry continues to grow, and he'll get Harry by any means necessary.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is being written as back-up gift as part of the Tomarry Dark Spring Exchange on Tumblr. My giftee requested a creature!Tom fic with some very Dark themes...
> 
> And basically this story is going to get very Dark. Like in the creepy fairy tale kind of way. There will be blood and violence but not overly graphic, and Tom is going to get very obsessive...but it's all in good fun ;D 
> 
> Also, please enjoy the pretty moodboard I made for the story 

“I dare you to go into the forest for half an hour,” Draco said with a smug smile, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

The reaction was instantaneous.

“No way!” “Are you crazy?” “What’s wrong with you?”

None of the remarks came from Harry, who was the person Draco had dared in the first place; Harry just stared straight back at Draco, neither of them backing down from the mutual glaring. Things had always been a competition between the two of them, each always trying to outdo or sabotage the other. In the name of friendship, of course.

Daring Harry to go into the forest could definitely be classed as an extreme act of sabotage, because most people who ventured into the forest didn’t come out alive, and those who did tended to be missing limbs and traumatised by invisible monsters. 

Harry glanced towards the forest in question, separated from the group by a vast expanse of barren field—they didn’t dare get any closer. They were close enough to feel the creepy atmosphere filtering through the circle of friends, but were far enough away to run if anything came leaping out of the trees. Beyond the thick cluster of the forest, the ruins of the old Hogwarts castle were just visible, stark grey against a dark sky, and rumours said the castle was just as dangerous as the forest.

“It’s only half an hour,” Draco argued, lips curling to a smirk as he continued to stare at Harry. “But if you’re scared-”

“I’m not scared,” Harry cut in quickly, even though the sight of the forest twisted something in his stomach. “I can go in for half an hour _easy_.”

“Harry, don’t do it!” Ron protested loudly.

“You could _die_ ,” Neville whimpered.

“Don’t be an idiot just to impress Draco,” Pansy added, rolling her eyes.

Harry opened his mouth to promise he’d be fine when a hand touched his softly, and Harry turned to see Cedric fixing him with a sympathetic look.

“Nobody would think any less of you if you don’t go in,” Cedric said softly. “That’s a ridiculous level of dare, even for Draco.” 

“If you don’t want to do it, Harry, just say so,” Draco murmured, still with the same damn smirk on his face. “You’ll just have to do the forfeit.”

“No!” Harry declared, surprising even himself. “I’m going in; I’m not scared of the forest.”

His words weren’t quite true, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to say no to a dare, even if it was a risky one. Harry had always been a bit of a daredevil who lived for adventure, which had always been encouraged by his father and godfather. He liked the adrenaline rush he got from potentially dangerous situations, and he’d been lucky enough to never come away from anything with worse than broken bones.

And how much trouble could he really get into in half an hour? He reckoned that as long as he stayed near the edge of the forest he’d be able to leave if anything alarming appeared, and then he could say that he’d been in the forest and survived.

Draco’s face paled, as if he hadn’t expected Harry to agree to the dare, but he managed to sneer nonetheless. 

“Get going then,” Draco said, jerking his head towards the trees. “We’ll be here when you get back.”

“Send up red sparks if you need help,” Hermione added, sending Harry a concerned glance. “And if you do need help, I’m going to see to it that Draco here is the first one running in to save you.”

Harry grinned as Draco choked and spluttered at that, but the smile fell from his face as he stood and faced the forest. 

Half an hour, that was all. His friends were all nearby so even if anything happened he at least had a rescue team ready to go. But it would be fine—nothing was going to happen to him.

The mud squelched beneath Harry’s boots as he forced himself to walk confidently towards the forest. It had rained almost the whole day, and the whole day before that. Even now the rain had stopped, the sky was still darkened by thick grey clouds that blocked the moonlight. 

Harry made an executive decision not to light his wand unless he needed to. Though he was convincing himself that he’d be fine, he wasn’t foolish enough to deny that there were dangerous creatures in the forest, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself by casting a light in the darkness of the trees. 

His heart pounded heavily in his chest, echoing through his ears as he stopped right by the treeline. He stared up at the tall pine trees and their leaves which looked almost black in the night, already feeling consumed by them. 

Harry cast a quick glance back at his group of friends, who were all standing and watching him, though he couldn’t quite make out their faces, before turning back and stepping into the trees. Almost immediately Harry felt a chill run through him, but he told himself it was just the adrenaline and not a direct effect of the forest. 

Though people said the castle was alive with its own magic, so who really knew how the forest worked? Everyone who had gone deep into the trees to find out had wound up dead. 

The ground here was firmer beneath Harry’s feet, the trees having protected the forest floor from the worst of the rain. It was almost pitch black inside, Harry unable to see far in front of him, and though he still reckoned it was best not to light his wand, he kept it clutched close to his chest. 

He took several more steps into the forest, slowly, listening out for any sounds that didn’t belong to him. He almost jumped out of his skin when an owl hooted high above him, and he let out a humourless laugh as he tried to calm his racing heart.

Finally he found a fairly dry patch of dirt to sit on, not too far from the treeline and sheltered by a particularly thick tree trunk. He rested his back against it as he slid to the ground, and squinted as he tried to make out the time on his watch. Five minutes down, twenty-five minutes to go. 

The longer Harry sat there, straining to listen to his surroundings, the fear that had been pumping through his veins was quickly become replaced with pure adrenaline. The darkness and the encompassing trees and the scuffles of animals were almost as thrilling as they were terrifying. Harry was, admittedly, ready to flee if anything truly horrifying appeared, but otherwise sitting in the forest wasn’t as bad as he had expected. 

Twenty minutes had passed when Harry first heard the sound that made him truly uncomfortable—a low growling emitted somewhere behind him, sounding halfway between human and animal; Harry couldn’t place what it was. 

He jumped to his feet as a twig snapped sharply behind him, his heart racing wildly once more as held his wand in front of him with trembling fingers. And then there was whispering, lowly muttered words that Harry couldn’t quite make out but that he knew were being said in English.

Harry couldn’t help himself, and he spun around to see what was there. He was met with nothing. 

He let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the front of the forest. Then he screamed.

Deep red eyes set in a ghostly white face appeared right in front of him, only inches away before the figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind only the overwhelming scent of blood that told Harry he hadn’t been imagining it. 

Harry could barely feel his legs as he broke into a run, but he only made it a few feet when an icy cold hand grabbed his ankle and he fell, wand flying from his grip as he collided with the hard ground. 

Sharp nails dug into his skin, tearing it apart as he tried to wrestle his leg free from the impossibly strong hold while desperately reaching for his wand. Triumph surged through him as his hands closed around familiar wood, giving him enough determination to finally break his leg free from the tight grip on it.

Harry finally cast _Lumos_ and turned to face his attacker, trying not to back away with fear as he eyed the snarling creature on the ground for the first time. The creature was incredibly humanoid, with a face that could have almost been considered handsome if it wasn’t contorted with murderous rage. His body was also similar to a humans, though he appeared far taller than any man Harry knew, and he had a head of thick black hair that curled around his slightly pointed ears. 

That was the end of the human qualities of the creature, however. His skin was as white as any vampire’s would be, almost translucent, and his eyes were the colour of blood, a deep, dark red. The creature’s teeth were all sharp and pointed, and stained with blood, and out of his fingers grew long claws which were also blood-stained— _Harry’s_ blood. He looked like the perfect combination of angel and demon, and somehow the angelic parts only served to make the creature even more horrifying. 

The creature was still on the ground growling, and Harry was just about to send up red sparks before fleeing when he noticed the reason for the creature being slow in attacking him—a thick, thorny stem was wrapped around one of his legs, and with the light of his wand Harry could see that the black material the creature was clothed in was wet with blood. 

Harry then did something that was perhaps the most stupid thing he had done in his life—he raised his hands in front of him and crouched down on the ground, albeit far enough out of the creature’s arm’s reach. 

The creature watched him curiously as Harry studied his leg, and upon closer inspection it appeared that the thorns were deeply embedded in the creature’s skin, while the stem itself was littered with claw marks where the creature had no doubt tried to tear it off.

“I can take it off for you,” Harry said slowly, watching carefully as the creature cocked his head. 

“I don’t need help from a pitiful human like you,” the creature snarled, his voice taking Harry by surprise. Even though he had heard the whispering earlier he still hadn’t expected perfect English to come from the creature’s mouth, and even less so in a relatively normal tone and in a posh London voice rather than the Scottish accent that Harry and his friends carried.

“You’re in pain,” Harry noted, managing to keep his own voice calm despite the heavy pounding of his heart. “What if your wounds get infected? A quick spell will have the thorns off in no time, and then you can go back to haunting the forest properly.”

The creature’s lips curled in a smirk. “And what’s to stop me killing you as soon as you’re finished, pretty? Your half an hour is almost up.”

Harry shivered at the creature’s comment—had it been watching them? How had it heard them? But he didn’t have time to focus on that right now. 

“Even while you’re injured I don’t doubt you could kill me in an instant if you wanted,” Harry retorted, giving the creature a shaky smile. 

“True, true,” the creature nodded. “But I rather prefer to _play_ with my food. Still want to help me, pretty?”

Nearly all of Harry’s mind was telling him to flee, to turn his back and run as fast as he could out of the forest. The remaining part of his mind was the smallest but the one that was screaming the loudest, telling him he couldn’t leave a creature injured like that. Even if the creature was responsible for half the deaths in the forest, Harry couldn’t bring himself to leave him in pain. There was just something about the creature that intrigued the insatiably curious part of Harry.

“Stay still,” Harry murmured, hovering his wand over the creature’s leg and levitating the thorns out of the wounded skin. The creature didn’t make a sound, his red eyes staying intently fixated on Harry as he worked. 

Harry cast a healing charm over the wounds before placing a cleaning charm over the blood-stained material, and he smiled in satisfaction as everything worked neatly. He forgot for a moment who he was helping.

The next thing Harry knew he was flat on his back on the cold forest floor, twigs and stones digging into his back, with the creature on top of him. The creature caught Harry’s wrists and pinned them above his head, the weight of his body warm on top of Harry’s. Harry could smell the metallic tang of blood on the creature’s breath as it clogged his senses, and he barely withheld a shiver.

“My name is Tom,” the creature said, leaning down and trailing his tongue from the corner of Harry’s lips and down to his jaw. “Remember my name, pretty. Your time’s up, so run before you die.”

The creature—Tom—was off Harry just as quickly as he’d tackled him, vanished into the trees. But Harry didn’t need to be told twice, and he ran towards the treeline as fast as he could, ignoring the pain coming from the cuts on his ankle. 

As soon as he escaped the encompassing prison of the trees and found himself out in the open field again, a weight Harry hadn’t known was there lifted from his shoulders and he almost fell to his knees in relief.

His friends who had been waiting for him jumped up in surprise when they spotted Harry running towards them. Cedric darted forwards and reached Harry first, and he wrapped Harry in a brief but tight hug before swinging an arm around his shoulder to escort him back.

“You made it!” Cedric exclaimed excitedly. “But you’re hurt! What happened? How are you still alive?”

The whole group seemed to have nothing else to ask Harry but the same questions over and over again. Harry told them about the dark trees and the strange sounds, but he decided not to mention Tom and told everyone that he had simply fallen over a tree root in the darkness and hurt himself on the ground. He admitted that he felt like he wasn’t alone in the forest, but left it at that.

Harry just had a feeling that it wouldn’t go down well if he told everyone he’d seen a creature that had been at least partially spying on them. It was one thing to have people disappear in the forest or come out too traumatised to speak, but to have a person say as a definitive fact that yes, the forest is haunted with monsters, would make people far more uneasy and afraid. It was better to leave them living in semi-ignorance, believing they were safe enough so long as they stayed away from the forest—and for _decades_ that had been true.

Harry’s friends seemed satisfied with the story he gave them, and even with excluding the actual terrifying creature, half of the group still looked horrified at the mere prospect of going inside the forest. 

“Let’s just not dare anyone to go into the forest next time,” Harry said finally, giving Draco a pointed look.

Draco had the decency to look sheepish. “I never thought you’d be stupid enough to accept it; I just wanted you to forfeit,” he admitted. “But we all agreed that if you came out, ah, _alive_ , then we wouldn’t mention this to your father…” 

Yes, explaining to the Head Auror that his only son had been dared by Draco to go into the Forbidden Forest would not end well for Draco or Harry, or indeed any of their friends. Harry’s father could be reckless himself, but he feared the forest as much as the rest of the residents of Hogsmeade. 

“I may be eighteen now, but my dad would still have no problem grounding me for life if I told him what I did,” Harry admitted with a shaky grin of his own. “And he’d probably convince your father to do the same to you, Draco.”

“Can we go now?” Neville spoke up. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

Several pairs of eyes glanced over to the forest, and it was only the silence from everybody else that told Harry he had simply imagined a glimpse of ruby-red eyes gleaming in the darkness. 

“Sure,” Harry said, offering Neville a comforting smile. “There’s definitely something not quite right about that forest.”

They trudged back towards the village, conversation turning lighter as grassy fields turned to stone walkways. Cedric hooked his arm around Harry’s shoulders once more as they fell to the back of the group, his body warm and inviting. Harry dropped his head to Cedric’s shoulder briefly before fixing him with a sly smirk.

“My parents are both on the night shift tonight,” Harry murmured softly so only Cedric could hear him. “Want to come back to mine?”

Cedric grinned. “How could I possibly refuse?”

As Cedric leaned down to kiss the top of Harry’s head, a low growling emitted behind them. Harry spun around, wand in hand, as his heart began beating wildly in his chest, but he was met with the sight of nothing but open countryside. 

“Harry?” Cedric asked in concern.

“Didn’t you hear that growling?” Harry asked, straining his ears and eyes but still spying nothing out of the ordinary.

“Growling?” Cedric repeated faintly. “I knew going into that forest would be no good for you; look how tense you are! The first thing I’m going to do when we get in is to run you a nice bath.”

“That sounds lovely,” Harry said, turning back around and forcing himself to relax. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of blood-stained teeth and glowing red eyes from his mind. And that single name.

 _Tom_.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dub-con situations and mention of character deaths in this chapter

Harry opened his mouth in a silent scream, arching up against Cedric’s body as his orgasm washed over him. His slick hands gripped Cedric’s shoulders hard as Cedric thrust hard into Harry’s body several more times before he reached his peak, pulling out of Harry to come on the bed covers.

Cedric gave a satisfied groan as he rolled off Harry and flopped onto the bed beside him, patting Harry’s thigh gently. 

“All good, Harry?” Cedric asked, stretching his arms out above his head.

“Great,” Harry answered, grinning widely. There was nothing like a good orgasm to clear his head. “You’re so good to me, Cedric,” he added, still somewhat in a state of blissful delirium.

Cedric chuckled and reached down to pull the bed covers up over them. 

“What time do you think your parents will be home tomorrow morning?” he asked. “I want to be gone before your dad gets in.”

Harry turned onto his side and smirked as he looked down on Cedric’s handsome face. “Usually by eight, why? You’re not still scared of my dad, are you?”

“Not so much,” Cedric answered with a sly grin of his own. “I’m just scared of the famed Auror Potter finding out that I’ve been debasing his son.”

“Debasing, hmm?” Harry teased. “I much prefer the term _defile_ , maybe sully…”

As Harry turned to rest his back against the headboard, he caught a flash of a face against the window, striking white against the dark glass. It was gone in less than a second, so quick that Harry would have been convinced he was seeing things had hellish red eyes not stuck out so vividly in his mind, and his heart not been pounding in his chest.

“Did you see that?” Harry asked, not taking his eyes off the window as he shook Cedric’s arm, all traces of humour gone from Harry’s voice as quickly as the face had left the window.

“See what?” Cedric murmured in confusion. “Harry…”

“There was a _face_ at the window,” Harry urged. “It was watching us… _fuck_!” 

“A face?” Cedric repeated faintly. “Merlin, I told Draco he made an incredibly stupid dare and I was right! Look how wound up going in that forest has gotten you! You’re imaging things like-”

“I didn’t imagine it!” Harry cut in angrily. “I swear it was there!”

His heart was still drumming heavily beneath his chest, his breath coming out in short, panting breaths. Those red eyes had been so like the creature Harry had seen in the forest… _Tom_. 

“Okay, Harry, okay,” Cedric murmured soothingly. “I’ll cast the strongest protection charms I know on the window, alright? And then I’ll get you a Sleeping Potion so you can sleep.”

Cedric gave Harry’s forehead a gentle kiss before he climbed out of the bed, and Harry watched his retreating back sadly. Cedric was really a wonderful man, sweet and loving and caring.

It was just a pity that Harry didn't love Cedric like Cedric loved him.

\- - - 

Cedric had been gone a good two hours before Harry’s parents arrived home. They had been due back over an hour ago, making Harry, who had already been on edge from meeting Tom in the forest and seeing that face at his window, particularly antsy.

He jumped when the Floo roared to life, and he hastily wiped up his spilled coffee as his mother stepped from the fireplace, followed by his father. Both of them looked weary, with dark circles under their eyes and their hair frazzled.

“Harry,” his mum greeted when she spotted him, giving him a weak smile. “Sorry for not getting in touch; there was...an _incident_.’

“Incident?” Harry repeating carefully, watching as his father poured himself a mug of black coffee and drained in almost in one go. “What kind of incident?”

“Animal attack,” his father said gruffly, and Harry’s blood ran cold. “One of the farms on the outskirts of the village; the Cattermole family.”

The coldness spread from Harry’s heart to the very fibre of his skin, making him feel like he’d been drenched in icy water. He knew of the Cattermoles; they were a young couple with three small children, who always had a smile on their face. 

“Did they all…?” Harry asked, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. But the look on his parents’ faces said it all.

“We tried,” his mother said quietly. “On the ones we could try...but there was no hope.”

James laid a hand on Lily’s shoulder comfortingly, his hazel eyes missing the sparkle that they usually held. 

“You said an animal attack?” Harry enquired, closing his eyes for a moment as a vivid image of a pale, handsome face with crimson eyes imprinted itself on his brain; the handsome face of a creature with teeth and claws sharp enough to tear a man to shreds. “What kind of animal?”

“A wolf,” his father answered with a shrug. “Or so we think. There were rumours of a werewolf clan moving nearer to the village, and some werewolf offspring are born and live entirely in their wolf form.”

Harry didn’t know why he’d expected an answer other than ‘a creature from the forest’ to make him feel better; it didn’t. 

“What about you, sweetheart?” his mother asked, forcing a lightness to her tone. “How was your night?”

“Fine,” Harry lied, knowing now more than ever that it would be a terrible idea to tell his parents he dared to enter the Forbidden Forest. “Cedric came over for a while and we had dinner.”

“He’s a nice boy, Diggory,” his father agreed, though Harry doubted he’d be saying that if he knew what he and Cedric had _really_ been up to.

His parents excused themselves to bed shortly after, leaving Harry to brood alone in his thoughts. Regardless of what had really happened, whether the Cattermoles had been killed by feral werewolves or a creature from the forest—by _Tom_ —it didn’t bode well for them.

For any of them. 

\- - - 

The front door of the Cattermole cottage was entirely off its hinges, flat on the ground with blood splatters staining the wood red. Harry felt ill as he looked at it, but he forced himself forwards, stepping over the threshold into the house.

Harry knew that he shouldn’t be there, but it wasn’t like he was there to _gawk_ ; he just needed to see it. He had never been one who was good when left alone with his thoughts—he tended to overthink everything and come up with terrible scenarios which he then needed to prove to himself weren’t real. 

So Harry had to see the Cattermole murder scene for himself, to see whether it was truly the work of werewolves or if the Auror team were deluding themselves for an easy answer. Not that Harry knew what made a werewolf attack different from that of another magical creature, but if he could at least see a sign or two that werewolves _might_ have been involved, it would help ease his mind.

A floorboard creaked behind him, and Harry span around, heart racing, but nobody was there. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax; he was wearing his Invisibility Cloak so nobody could know he was there, and wouldn’t unless he made a noise or chose to reveal himself.

As Harry moved deeper into the house, all he could really note was that there was a lot of blood, some of it thicker and congealed in places, streaked across the floorboards in uneven lines. A set of bloodied handprints littered the wall, like somebody had been grasping desperately at it. 

Harry swallowed heavily when he saw a child’s painting hung up on a wall splattered with blood.

He turned away to face the front door again, unable to look at the bloodbath any longer. Whatever had attacked and killed the poor family had certainly been vicious, and could absolutely have been the work of werewolves, but also had the potential to have been Tom, or indeed any other of the rumoured creatures that lived in the Forbidden Forest, perhaps angered that Harry had gone in and left alive.

An unmistakable scurrying of footsteps sounded behind Harry then, stopping almost as soon as they had started. Harry span around, wand in hand, but saw nobody. He looked around the room wildly, holding his breath as he strained to listen, but he could hear nothing but silence surrounding him. 

Taking a deep breath, attempting to convince himself he must be imagining things, Harry turned to leave and jumped as the door—previously on the ground outside—flew back into place in the doorframe with a loud bang. Harry stared, wide-eyed, wand shaking in his trembling grasp. He knew he shouldn’t have come here.

He edged slowly towards the door, watching around him warily as he moved. He stared at the door for a moment, half-expecting it to suddenly start shrieking or something, but when it stayed still and silent—eerily so, admittedly—Harry reached his hand towards the handle.

He yelped out loud as a cold hand gripped his ankle and yanked him backwards, making him fall of the floor. He hissed in pain, his wrists stinging as he attempted to break his fall while he kicked out with his feet, but though he met nothing but empty air, the phantom hold on his ankle was suddenly gone. 

Harry scrambled to his feet, almost slipping in the blood of the Cattermole family as he urgently pulled the door open and ran through it—only to collide with a hard body. His last glimpse was of red eyes before everything went black— 

—and suddenly came to light again as he woke up at the kitchen table.

Had he been asleep? Was it just a dream—a _nightmare_ — and not real life? Everything had felt so real—he could still feel the clammy hand around his ankle—but how was Harry here, back at his dining room table it it had been?

Harry rubbed his face with his hands, breathing in deeply as he did so. He couldn’t smell dirt or blood on his skin, only the faint scent of citrus which had probably come from one of his mum’s cleaning spells. 

But regardless of whether Harry had been attacked by an invisible force of simply dreamt it, he knew he was more messed up by the forest than he had ever anticipated. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t beginning to descend into madness like the few survivors who’d ever stumbled out of the forest.

Or maybe he wasn’t descending; maybe he was already there.

\- - - 

Harry downed another shot of vibrant blue liquid, grinning in the aftermath. His head felt dizzy in a pleasant way, and he felt light, airy, like nothing could bring him down.

He knew he could count on Pansy and Blaise to throw a great party to get his mind off things. All it had taken was a simple suggestion from Harry that they should have a quiet get-together with a couple of drinks, and suddenly there was a wild party being thrown for all the young adults in the village. 

The music was pounding and the drinks were flowing, and all of Harry’s previous worries felt a million miles away. He felt buzzed, just a little bit more than tipsy but not stumbling drunk yet, and it was the perfect point, in Harry’s opinion.

“Hey, Ced,” Harry said as he approached Cedric, reaching up on his toes so he could hook his arms around Cedric’s shoulders. “Why don’t you have a drink? Loosen up, yeah?”

“You know I don’t drink a lot, Harry,” Cedric said, stern but calm. “I came because I want to be with you, not get blathered.”

Harry sniggered. “You’re so kind, Cedric, so good to me. Why are you so good to me, Ced?”

He placed a sloppy kiss on Cedric’s kiss, and ignored the sigh he heard in response.

“Come outside with me?” Harry asked, releasing his hold on Cedric as he went back to the balls of his feet, nearly stumbling over in the process. “I wanna see the stars.”

“By Merlin, you’re trashed,” Cedric murmured, hooking an arm round Harry’s shoulder to guide him from Blaise’s event room to the much quieter, calmer outside.

Harry let out a pant of breath, and then another, laughing as his breaths came out white in the frigid air. 

“There are your stars, Harry,” Cedric said softly, taking Harry’s hand to point it upwards.

Harry’s gaze followed the movement, grinning when it landed on the twinkling dots in the night sky.

“So pretty,” Harry purred, looking away from the stars to fix Cedric with—what he hoped—was a sultry look. “Do you think _I’m_ pretty, Cedric? I think you’re pretty.”

“You’re very pretty,” Cedric answered, pushing Harry’s hand away as it began to trail up Cedric’s chest. “And you’re also very drunk-”

“Yeah?” Harry snorted. “I don’t care. I want you to fuck me, Ced. There’s nobody out here and I don’t mind the cold.”

“Harry, you’re drunk,” Cedric said again, and I’m not; I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not gonna take advanz-advast...you’re not gonna do that,” Harry declared, almost falling again as he placed his hand on his hip and unbalancing himself in the process. “You can fuck me however you like, Ced. Don’t you want that? I want you to do it.”

Harry tried to surge forwards to kiss Cedric but he was pushed away gently. 

“I’m not doing this, Harry,” Cedric said firmly. “I’m going back inside; if you’re not back in five minutes I’m sending someone out for you, but I really hope you’ve calmed down by then.”

Calm down? Who did Cedric think he was? There were other guys in the village who’d have jumped at the chance of Harry being willing to bend over for them any way they liked so they could have a go at his arse; maybe Harry would have to find one of them. That Colin Creevey always seemed to have had a crush on him…

Harry turned to look towards the forest again. It was barely visible from Blaise’s home, only the dark tips of the trees on show, but they loomed up into the sky almost menacingly. Harry shivered and rubbed his hands together, blowing into them into an effort to make them warm.

Harry froze when arms wrapped around his chest, pinning his own arms to the side. And then a warm mouth was at his neck, sucking and licking the sensitive skin there.

“Realise you made a mistake?” Harry teased, but Cedric didn’t respond, instead moving one of his hands lower until it reached beneath the waistband of Harry’s jeans.

Harry moaned as Cedric wormed his hand under Harry’s boxers and took his length in hand, stroking him to full hardness. He could feel Cedric’s own erection pressed against his arse, somehow feeling far bigger than normal; Cedric must have been really turned on.

Harry ground his arse back against the hard cock and was met by a light nip on his neck. And Harry kept going, grinding hard against Cedric’s erection while Cedric stroked Harry with incredibly talented fingers.

“That’s good, Ced,” Harry murmured breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed as Cedric began to stroke him harder. “You’re so good at this. Mmm, I’m gonna come soon, Ced, gonna-”

Harry’s words turned into a silent scream as he came, but soon became a real scream as Cedric bit down _hard_ on Harry’s neck. Cedric quickly muffled the noise with his other hand, his fingers still working Harry’s cock and his teeth still clamped down on Harry’s neck until Harry was entirely slumped in Cedric’s arms. 

Harry nudged his face forward to try and shove Cedric’s hand away from his mouth, and turned around to give him a piece of his mind.

“Biting-?!” he started to growl, but as he turned around it was to discover nobody behind him. “Cedric?” he called out nervously. “Cedric?!”

“Harry?” a voice responded from above, and Harry glanced up to see Cedric at one of the upstairs window. “Oh, you look a fright! I’ll be right down.”

But hadn’t he…? The dizziness in Harry’s head felt even stronger than before, not longer fun but overwhelming, and Cedric made it downstairs just in time to catch Harry as he fell.

\- - -

Harry woke up with a pounding headache. He groaned and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand soothingly over his forehead but to no avail; he hated hangovers.

Somehow he had ended up on Blaise’s sofa; he didn’t really remember much from the previous night after passing out in Cedric’s arms.

Harry’s eyes snapped open when a loud scream sounding from outside. He jumped to his feet, hangover be damned, along with the other people who’d crashed in Blaise’s lounge. 

The scream sounded again, this time more like a wail, and Harry shared a glance with the others before they all rushed outside, wand in hands.

Harry hurried through the front door, his eyes immediately zooming past a hysterical Pansy and onto the sight behind her. 

It was Cedric, wrists slashed and bloodied, hanging from a tree with a noose round his neck. 

It was Harry’s turn to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is having a rough time of it, huh? XD


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild gore in this chapter

Harry laid the vibrant yellow daffodils down on the grave, the soil on top still fresh. The bright colour of the petals stood out violently against the brown mud, and it seemed almost offensive to place something so full of colour and life against something so dead, but daffodils had always been Cedric's favourite flower.

It had been two weeks since Cedric's death, and Harry was still struggling to come to terms with it. He knew that he hadn't been a good boyfriend to Cedric—where Cedric wanted a happily-ever-after and sweet romance, Harry only wanted sex and a good time together—but Harry had still cared for him. He had certainly never expected bubbly, outgoing Cedric to kill himself, but that was what the Aurors had ruled. Not that Harry didn't believe that suicidal people couldn’t feign being happy, but he was sure that Cedric wasn't _that_ good of an actor.

Truth be told, Harry wasn't entirely sure it was a suicide. Sure, slashed wrists and hanging were classic suicide moves, and at had it been earlier in the year Harry would have been shocked and horrified but he'd have believed it...but that was before Harry had met Tom. 

Ever since Cedric's death, the nightmares and flashes of red eyes in windows and mirrors had only increased ten-fold. Sometimes he would wake in the middle of the night feeling a clammy hand around his throat, or ice cold fingers brushing against his cheek. He'd even confided in his mother that he felt like he was being haunted, but Lily had simply smiled sadly and said dealing with death affected people in different ways but 'things would get easier'. 

He hadn't told her that sometimes he heard a hushed whisper calling his name enticingly, and as far as Harry was aware, auditory hallucinations weren't a common effect of grief. 

Then there was the fact that another farmer had been brutally torn apart just days after Cedric's death, and more recently an old woman out walking her dog was slaughtered. The werewolves were blamed again, and Harry had been ready to admit what he’d seen in the Forbidden Forest that night when the Aurors found evidence than a werewolf group were indeed in the area. That wasn't to say they were definitely to blame for the attacks, but Harry felt a little bit of guilt ease at the _possibility_ that Tom hadn't been the killer.

It was the not knowing which was driving Harry crazy. Thoughts of Tom seemed to consume his every thought, regardless if he was awake or asleep, and Harry was seeing and hearing glimpses of Tom _everywhere_ , but he still wasn’t quite sure if it was real or not. Then there were all the deaths that had happened since Harry had met Tom which could also easily be attributed to other creatures or reasons, but could also very well be because of Tom. 

Harry wasn’t one to sit around and wait for things to fall through, however. He wasn’t patient, and he couldn’t stay in the dark any longer; if Cedric had indeed been murdered, Harry wanted justice for him. Harry needed answers now, and to get them he had to go back into the Forbidden Forest.

\- - - 

The trees of the Forbidden Forest stretched up impossibly high into the night sky, their leaves rustling in the breeze which stung Harry’s cheeks with the cold. The moon, almost full, glowed brightly and cast a stream of orange light across the otherwise pitch black field Harry was standing in.

As the wind continued to whip through the trunks of the trees, Harry swore he could hear his name whispered in it, beckoning him into the darkness. Harry took one step forward and then froze again, the nausea in his stomach and the tightness in his chest growing worse with every inch closer he got towards the forest.

He didn’t _want_ to go in, but he had to. If he wanted justice for Cedric and the others that had been killed, Harry needed to discover the truth so that their memories could rest in peace; he _owed_ that to them, seeing as it was potentially his fault they were dead anyway.

Harry had prepared himself for the forest—in theory, he had nothing to worry about. As well as having his wand out and ready, he had some Muggle items stuffed in his pockets, courtesy of his mother’s supply cabinet, which included a torch, plasters, and a panic alarm. He also carried a switchblade which Sirius had gifted him with on his last birthday, just in case he got disarmed. On top of all that he was wearing his Invisibility Cloak so there was no way that anyone or any _thing_ would be able to see him. 

His parents were both on night duty, of course, because they barely liked him leaving the house since the attacks as it was, never mind going to the actual dreaded forest. He’d considered telling one of his friends where he was going, but he knew that nobody would understand, and even if they did that would only mean a search party would have to go into the Forbidden Forest after him if he did end up disappearing. Harry wasn’t going to put any more lives at stake.

With a deep breath, knowing it was now or never, Harry forced his body to continue forwards and step into the forest. A chill shuddered through him as he passed the treeline, the already cold breeze turning to ice all at once. 

It was hard to see far in front of him without a light, but he couldn’t risk drawing unnecessary attention to himself. He had chosen to enter the forest invisible for a reason, and casting Lumos would simply be creating a target for the creatures of the forest to find. 

He did have a plan, even if it wasn’t a very good one; find Tom, watch his patterns and behaviours and see if he looked like he could have killed Cedric and the other villagers. If it really came to it then Harry would ask Tom directly, but he’d rather have as little contact with him as possible. 

The forest seemed impossibly silent as Harry walked through it, almost like it was dead. There was no hooting of owls, or leaves rustling, or snapping twigs. The only things Harry could hear were his own breathing and footsteps, and he felt unnerved that the forest was so quiet; it wasn’t natural.

It went much the same way for an hour; aimless wandering amongst the darkness and the strange silence. Harry had seen no form of life yet, whereas the first time Harry had been in the forest Tom had been upon him within twenty minutes. Harry had kind of hoped he’d stumble into Tom quickly this time round, because the forest was far too large for him to search in one night, plus the further he went in, the more chance he had of getting lost. 

Luck certainly didn’t seem to be on his side tonight. 

Harry paused by a large oak tree while he decided which way to turn next. He chose to turn left, and it wasn’t long on his new path that he found himself stepping on something soft and _squidgy_. He grimaced, foot hovering in the air as he looked down and squinted so he could see through the darkness. 

It was a rabbit, or rather the _remains_ of one. The carcass was just on the turn of rotting, flies buzzing around the split open stomach and the entrails which spilled from the wound. Harry’s frown deepened, a sick feeling coming over him at the sight. 

He took a large step over the dead animal, only to find himself almost standing on a similarly torn apart fox. He cast _Lumos_ just for a moment, casting a beam of light across the forest floor.

Into view came body after body of slaughtered animals, blood and guts splattered up tree trunks and across the dirt. 

Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he flinched violently at the sight. He dropped the spell, and as the light faded a pair of red eyes gleamed at him through the darkness before they too disappeared. 

Harry’s already racing heart began beating so fast he swore it was going to burst through his chest, and though his mind was screaming at him to run his feet refused to move, staying firmly in place. He could turn back, go back home where he’d be safe, and leave the creature hunting to the Aurors, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to do it; he wasn’t a coward—he’d sworn to find the truth for Cedric, and that was what he had to do. 

Fighting away the logical part of mind that still wanted to flee, Harry instead pressed onwards despite the jelly-like feeling in his legs. He stepped over each animal corpse, boldly looking forwards as he moved further into the dark forest.

“You’re braver than I thought, pretty,” a chilling voice murmured, echoing around the trees, making it impossible to pinpoint where it had come from. “But what some call brave, others call stupid.”

Harry knew there was no point staying silent now; Tom knew he was there. 

“I need to talk to you,” Harry admitted, clutching his wand tightly in his fingers. It gave him a sense of security, and the magic embedded in it warmed slightly as if to comfort him. 

“Do you?” Tom exclaimed in mock shock, still hiding amongst the trees. “Don’t I feel _honoured_? So tell me; what brings pretty boys into _my_ forest, looking _for_ me rather than running away from me?”

“I need to know if you killed him.” Harry said, voice breaking on the last. “Did you kill him?” he asked, voice stronger.

“Kill who?” Tom purred. “Oh, that _lover_ of yours, you mean? He was good at making you moan, though I do believe I’d be much better at making you _scream_.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Harry swallowed heavily. “Why? Were you _jealous_? How-?”

“I never said I killed him,” Tom cut in. “ I’m not going to indulge your whims and tell you whether or not I killed him, because you must already blame me. If you thought there was even the slightest chance it may have been suicide, you wouldn’t risk your own life coming out here to find me.”

Harry scowled. “Or maybe I just wanted to find out the truth so I can honour Cedric’s memory properly.”

Tom was right though; Harry did blame Tom—he _needed_ to, because otherwise it meant Cedric had really had been in that much anguish as to take his own life…

Harry let out a shout of surprise as his Invisibility Cloak was yanked away from him, and a Stinging Hex left his wand on instinct, splintering into a nearby tree. He span around, still seeing no sign of where Tom was lurking. 

“That’s my father’s Cloak,” Harry said quickly. “Give it back or-”

Tom giggled coldly. “You think you’re in a position to make demands, pretty? You _are_ naive, aren’t you? Tell you what; I’m going to give you one free shot at me, and if you can cause some serious damage to me then I’ll give you the Cloak back.”

It had to be a trick, it just had to be. But then Tom stepped into view, just as devastatingly handsome and terrifying as before; snow white skin and blood red eyes, and cheekbones as sharp as the teeth that sat between perfect ruby lips. 

Tom stalked gracefully towards him, eyes flashing over as he looked at Harry hungrily. 

“Well,” Tom offered, holding his arms out at his sides, the Invisibility Cloak fluttering from its grasp in Tom’s fingers. “Take your shot...come on, do it. Do it. Do it. Do _it_.”

Harry shot a Slashing Hex right at Tom’s face.

Tom didn’t even flinch, nor did he show any signs of distress as the skin on his face parted. The wound almost looked like it was _melting_ , blood and waxy white skin oozing together as the slash on the cheek widened far enough for Harry to see the red flesh and white muscle beneath...only for the injury to begin stitching itself back up. 

Harry’s eyes widened in horror as Tom’s face healed itself, leaving only a splatter of blood as proof that his face had just been torn open. 

It was then, much too late, that Harry decided to flee. He spun on his heels and prepared to break into a run, only to feel a blur brush past him before he crashed into a firm body. 

An impossibly strong arm wrapped around Harry, holding him tightly against Tom’s body. Harry squirmed, desperately trying to at least free his right arm so that he could use his wand to defend himself, but it appeared that Tom had no intention of letting him go.

Tom used his other hand to grasp the back of Harry’s hair, yanking his head back sharply so that Harry was forced to look up into Tom’s face. Tom smelt like blood, metallic and sharp, clogging Harry’s senses. 

“You chose to be a coward too late, it seems,” Tom tutted mockingly, entirely unfazed by Harry’s attempts to free himself. “Your father is going to get either _you_ back, or his Cloak back.”

“Keep the damn Cloak,” Harry spat, slumping in Tom’s grasp as his body grew tired from fighting to escape. “Just let me go, you-”

“I don’t want the Cloak,” Tom interrupted, letting out a short, maniacal giggle. Harry’s heart turned to ice in his chest, his body suddenly finding new motivation to struggle once more. “You are much more appealing to me.”

“No,” Harry stated. “No. Let me go! Let me-”

With enough squirming Harry finally managed to reach the switchblade in his pocket. He pressed the button on the side and, as best as he could, slammed the knife into Tom’s arm. 

The shock was enough for Tom to loosen his grip just enough that Harry managed take that split-second to break free of his grasp. The switchblade fell to the ground but Harry ignored it as he span around, and without looking back he cast a spell to create a fiery barrier between him and Tom as he ran. 

Harry couldn’t remember which way he’d come from, but he didn’t care; he just ran and ran and ran until his chest and legs burned with the exertion of it. He had no idea if Tom was behind him or not, but he couldn’t afford himself a moment’s hesitation in checking; he just had to get away.

Eventually he reached a point where he could see a flicker of light amongst the trees ahead of him and found his feet carrying towards it. He still had no idea where he was, but if there were people there he must be near civilisation, which meant he was back to relative safety. 

His feet were aching but he had to make it to the light, he just had to. He was getting so close now that he could smell the smoke from what had to be a fire, and could hear the low muttering of voices…

A figure stepped out from the trees and Harry crashed straight into it. For a horrifying moment he thought it was Tom, only for him to look up and realise that his night had just got a whole lot worse.

The figure was a man, tall and bulky, and all _hair_ ;with long, straggly silver strands from his head and a beard on his chin to match, and with a thick coating of hair across his broad, muscular arms and peeking out from under the collar of his leather vest. The man’s teeth were yellow and crooked, his nose was bent like it had been broken several times, and his eyes were a vibrant amber shade found only amongst werewolves.

Harry had only ever seen Fenrir Greyback’s face on wanted posters in the village, but he looked far more terrifying in person. 

“Hello, luv,” Greyback purred, knocking Harry’s wand out of his hand before the spell he’d been about to cast could even leave his lips. Greyback caught Harry’s wrist and pulled him close; Harry struggled against the hold and Greyback twisted his hand, causing a snapping pain followed by a burning jolt of pain coursing through Harry’s arm. 

Harry gasped in pain, tears springing to his eyes as Greyback curled his other arm around Harry’s back and dropped a large hand down to squeeze Harry’s arse. 

“Didn’t Mummy and Daddy teach you not to wander into wolf territory?” Greyback taunted nastily. “The Full Moon isn’t for another couple of nights, but don’t worry, luv,” he added, hoisting Harry up to throw him over his shoulder. He gave Harry’s arse a slap for good measure. “Me and the lads can still have plenty of fun with you until then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is one of those Harry-torture fics if you hadn't realised by now ;D 
> 
> My question to you lovely, Harry-torture loving readers is how far do you want Greyback and his followers to go? I'm quite open for it not being so bad with the werewolves, or being _very_ bad with the werewolves, so I thought I'd see what you guys think :)
> 
> Also I made a new moodboard because I'm weak :D


End file.
